


About weed gummies, tequila shots and purple socks

by tinymaninatincan



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Post 2x04, Unresolved Romantic Tension, and she smirks a lot, basically they get drunk and fluffy things happens, dirk being dirk but drunker, dirk wants to be the little spoon, hand holding, morally questionable conversations about socks, so much fluff i almost lost two teeth, tina knows, todd is the sweetest bf ever, todd wants dirk to feel better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 23:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12692349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinymaninatincan/pseuds/tinymaninatincan
Summary: "Todd hasn't the slightest idea of how they ended up in this situation (this is: a very drunk and a bit stoned Dirk with his head on his lap and a very weird conversation about socks on Tina’s couch)."





	About weed gummies, tequila shots and purple socks

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello, this is me again, posting things instead of studying :D This fic takes place after 2x04, and it includes an insane amount of fluff, a bit of angst, shitty methaphors, an even shittiest and probably inaccurate representation of an inebriated state, and an unsatisfaying dose of almost-smut. Enjoy!
> 
> (again, english isn't my mother language and this was a b*tch to write because i wanted to be ambitious and wrote on two tenses, past at first and then present, let's hope it isn't a complete disaster).

 Todd hasn't the slightest idea of how they ended up in this situation.

 Ok, you could think that after the time machine-slash-body swapping thing, or the electric ghost rhino incident, or the sliding into a house-inside-another-house with a creepy purple singing monster as its only host, or all the interdimensional princes and prophecies and worlds drawn in a wall, Todd's bar of strangeness was set pretty high. And, yeah, it's fair, he didn't know how he got caught in all those situations, and knew even less how he got out of them.

 But this is a different kind of situation. Now there's no girls inside corgis, or sharks inside kittens, or men inside trees.

 It's just a very drunk and a bit stoned Dirk with his head on his lap and a very weird conversation about purple socks on Tina’s couch.

 In fact, if Todd makes a effort through the relaxed and warm alcohol induced fog that clouds his mind (because yes, he admits it, he's a little tipsy too), he can recall that everything that lead to this situation started, indeed, with Tina. It was already late when they returned from the Cardenas house, so sheriff Hobbs suggested to call it a day. It was his night shift on the police station, and, although Farah had stayed the night before, she insisted Todd and Dirk needed to rest after the day they have had. This caused a little complaint from Todd and a great dismay for Tina, who hosted tonight (and whose crush on Farah was evident, but, let’s face it, who doesn’t have a crush on Farah, the woman was amazing).

 So, this arrangement left Tina, Todd and Dirk as roommates for the night on the small house of the former. Todd should have guessed by then that this night wasn’t going to be as calm as the previous in Hobbs house, Tina’s electric personality reflected in the messy yet cozy living room.

 As it comes, she only had one bed (hers), so one of them must sleep on a sofa that definitely has seen better times (was that a mustard stain?) and the other should be satisfied with a bunch of blankets and cushions on the floor.

 Todd insisted it was his turn of sleeping on the floor, but Dirk was adamant, and ended any discussion by sprawling himself on the poorly made nest and by stating that, he, as the tallest of them both, had the last word on the matter (because “Todd, I _won’t fit_ on the couch, and I’ll end up _falling off_ and what if I _broke_ my neck. It will be such a awkward death, so it’s safer if you take it”). Of course, Todd had rolled his eyes, muttering something about how dramatic Dirk could be, but behind that demeanor he could feel the bullshit and it was just another excuse to punish himself.

 He couldn’t shake the feeling that Dirk was still affected by the day’s events (who wasn't), the guilt and sick worry that he had emanated on the police station still prickling on Todd’s skin. He knew Dirk state of mind wasn’t the best (after all, he’d just escaped two months of who know what atrocities just to land in a very dangerous, scary scenario) but Todd was starting to think it was worst and darker than he thought at first. It wasn’t a lie if he admit he felt a little hopeless, even angry, because he hated, god, how he hated, seeing Dirk collapsing by the weight all those traumas. He wanted to punch everyone at Blackwing in the face, he wanted to punch the purple monster in the face, hell, he even wanted to punch universe in the face (if it had one, at this point he wouldn't rule it out).

 His thoughts were cut by a cheerful Tina appearing on the living room with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a bag of colourful yet suspicious gummies in the other.

“Ok, I’m not sure if we should celebrate the new clue on the case or if we must drink ourselves stupid before more shit happens, but either way I’m gonna get drunk and high tonight. Who wants to join me?”, she said, raising her eyebrows in not a very persuasive way.

 Every fiber on Todd’s body whined at the thought of spending one more minute awake, and he was about to reject politely the offer when Dirk got up, so fast he almost blurred, and in a blink he’s beside Tina, fighting against the bottle's opening.

 And, yeah, maybe that was a surprise and a little concerning.

“Dirk, I don't’ think you… we should…” his argument got interrupted when Tina threw the gummies bag, Todd catching it after it bounces off his face. Ouch,

“Open that, Brotzman, I’m gonna get the glasses.”

 And she disappeared like that, leaving him with a struggling Dirk and an uneasy feeling.

“Bloody seal, you think you can defeat me, but, I assure you, I will prevail”.

“Dirk, are you sure you want to try that?”, Todd asked then, approaching him.

“Please, Todd, if you are worried about my ability for holding my alcohol, know there's no need. I’ve been drunk before… ok, it was many years ago, when I was in college, but I remember, and it was fun. Don’t you want to have fun?”

“Well, yes, it’s fun, I guess, but… wait, were you in college?” the fact shocked Todd so much, like it was impossible to picturing someone like Dirk doing mundane things like going to university. It strikes him too how little he knew about the detective, or at least, before his life before al the Patrick Sring thing. Suddenly, it bothered him. A lot.

 Dirk stopped struggling with the bottle, taken a little back, as if he just had reveal something the didn't want to. His face became shy, but he covered it quickly with a layer of false enthusiasm.

“Mm, yeah, in Cambridge… it was… it was right after Blackwing got shut down the first time. I wasn’t there too much anyway, I got expelled right before I could finish my first year”.

“Oh, how’s that?”

“I guessed all the questions of a final exam on my sleep and people thought I stole the exams, so... yep”, he shrugs, a bobbly smile curving his lips.

“That’s… so unfair”.

 At this point, Todd knew first hand that everything universe-related was far away from fair, but noting how Dirk entire existence had been plagued by dirty tricks is… maddening. Dirk was many things _(annoying, childish, enthusiastic, hyperactive, senseless_ ) but in the end he was a good man who had every reason to become evil but still decided to help people. He didn’t deserve any of the bad things that happened to him.

 So, Todd resolved, if he wanted to get wasted and forgot for one night all his problems, who was he to take it away. And, why not, Todd could use a drink too, life ain’t easy for him either. Healthy coping mechanisms where?

“Ok, give me the bottle”, he snatched the bottle from Dirk’s hand, trading it for the gummies bag. He, finally, gets to break the seal, and opens the bottle with a smile, “I’m not gonna let you get drunk alone” ( read that as _"I’m not gonna let you being alone anymore, ever, because I care about you and you deserve someone better than me but this is what you got and I’m gonna do my best to make you feel better"_ ). And, ok, the beaming smile Dirk gave him was more than worth the future hangover.

“Ooooh, yeah, that’s the Brotzman I admire!” Tina made her appearance then, carrying three glasses like they were trophies, “If I get you drunk enough, will you give me a Mexican Funeral private concert?”

“Oh, my god, yes, Todd, you _have to sing_ , a bender can’t be called a bender if there is no singing”, Dirk intervened excited, finally succeeding at opening the bag at least .

“Ha, you wish, I don’t sing anymore, sorry”.

 Tina’s wicked smile as she fills the glasses over the little table in front the sofa gave him chills.

“We’ll see”.

 Of course, after almost six shots of tequila and a bunch of weed gummies, Todd ended up singing, something that was very expected, as it was expected too that Dirk ended up completely wasted just after three shots. It seemed he couldn’t hold his drinks as well as he said after all.

And, yes, it was fun, they played stupid games and danced to the radio songs and drank and Tina told horrendous jokes that had Dirk turned into a giggling mess and drank a little more, and then Dirk put so many gummies on his mouth at once he choked and, for the first time in two months, Todd felt more relaxed than ever.

 Time passed, and with every shot the night started to blur a little, and when Todd catched up again with the present, he finds himself in the weird situation where Dirk is using his lap as a pillow, all glassy eyes and dishevelled hair, and he and Tina, who sits by his side on the sofa, are talking about the importance of socks in one’s outfit.

“... socks are a vital part of one’s wardrobe”, Dirk is saying, his hands accompanying his slurred speech, “It’s a small detail, yes, but it’s also an art. For example, I had once a pineapple tie. And every time I put that tie, I had to put my pineapple socks, because, you know, how awful I would look if I wear, I don’t know, avocados socks with it?”

“Man, you're eccentric.” Tina replies, the slur less noticeable, cradling her empty glass against her chest, her feet on the table, “Anyway, I’m just saying your socks are too purple. But I guess it helps distract the attention of your ugly shirt.”

 Dirks yelps, offended, and he tries to glare at Tina without lifting his head, what results in his nape nailing onto Todd’s tight. He complains, but softly, just because the affronted face Dirk is making is so funny and endearing.

“Excuseeeee me? My shirt is perfectly fine! What's the problem with my shirt? It isn't ugly… you… your cap is ugly, duh”.

 Tina starts laughing loud, a devious smirk on her face.

“Aaaawn, I really like messing with you, it's the funniest thing ever”.

“Todd, tell her my shirt isn't ugly, Todd. You like my shirt, right?” Todd startles when he realises they have included him in the conversation. He blinks, diverting his eyes from Dirk’s hopeful expression to the shirt of discord. It is, in fact, horrendous, with its big lapels and its dizzy pattern. But, truth to be told, he can’t ignore the way the fabric hugs Dirk complexion, adjusting at it just in the right places. Like the first time he saw Dirk with it, he wonders how the hell he’s so fitted and how the fuck he didn’t notice sooner. Has Dirk been toned before or was something that happened at Blackwing? He recalls the few times he saw him without a jacket and yes, maybe he’s always been in better shape than his lanky noddle-like figure let know at first. Not that Todd had spent time thinking about Dirk body anyway, neither has he been thinking about how that ugly shirt shows a little too much of his clavicles.

 A little nudge on his belly catches his attention again, Dirk’s finger poking him because he's been silent almost half a minute. Woops.

 He coughs awkwardly, and then replies.

“It looks nice on you”, and, let’s get things straight, he is _not_ blushing (ok, so maybe not _that straight_ …).

 Dirk face makes one of his expression journeys where dozen of things pass through in milliseconds. Now there is confusion, doubt, shyness, triumph and finally settles for a smile with a hint of color in his cheeks.

 Tina's raccoon laugh jolts him again, and when Todd looks at her, he sees a knowing grin on her face. Oh, shit.

 They stay silent for awhile, Todd trying to decide if his leg, which is slept because of the position and the weight above it, is worth moving a content Dirk from his lap. Probably not, looking at the little drunk smile he wears, and Todd thought’s tracking gets derailed when he notices a little curl of hair on Dirk’s temple. Lets get serious, will it be weird if he pulls it back? Maybe a little, but it is making him nervous and suddenly he only can think about trading his fingers through Dirk’s hair, tousling it again and again. He bets it's soft, because Dirk is soft, all of him, his eyes, his smile, the little wrinkles… Ok, maybe he’s a little bit drunker than he firstly recognize.

“Hey, hey, _hey_!”, luckily (or unluckily), Tina breaks the silence and with it, the inner monologue of Todd, “maybe the purple alligator chased you because of your socks. You know, wasn't it singing about eating purple people? And your jacket was purple too, but your socks were purpl _er_.”

 Dirk keeps quiet, a squint replacing the smile, and then, suddenly, he sits up, so fast it makes him lose his precarious balance and only Todd’s grip on his arm prevent him for falling off the sofa (and, right, maybe someone can actually break his neck by falling off a couch, being most likely if that someone is Dirk).

“Oh my God, it's true!!” the detective yells, and it's so comically how he opens his eyes wide and dramatically puts his hand on his chest in a very Dirk manner. He then turns to face Todd, a goddamned pout starting to form on his lips, “My socks could have got us killed, Todd! Oh my God, I'm so sorry”

 And all of sudden he looks so heartbroken Todd is taken aback for a moment.

“Hey, man, it's… it's okay, it's not your fault.”

“Yes, it is, Todd, _of course it is_! How could I be _so silly_ , we almost _died_!”, he starts rambling sadly, and Todd doesn’t catch what he’s saying but it doesn’t sound good. And Todd doesn’t want a sad Dirk, he wants a goofy, drunk-smiling Dirk. So he gathers the little courage that the alcohol in his blood gives him and reaches out, putting his hand on top of Dirk’s. He stops mumbling the second he feels the contact, but Todd doesn't falter and gives it a encouraging squeeze.

“It's ok, really”. He admires the pretty pink that creeps up from Dirk’s neck until his ears, and he even smiles softly at him when he runs his thumb along side the back of his hand.

“Yeah, man, I was just kidding the monster probably chased you just because that's what monsters do…”, Tina speaks again and Todd startled again, because somehow he has lost himself in Dirk blushing face and shiny, pretty eyes and has forgotten she was there too. Something similar must happen to Dirk, because they both tear away their hands as if they burn, in shook.

“I need a drink.” Dirk is the first to talk, the pink shadow now red. “Well, another drink.”

 He tries to get up but he ends landing clumsily on his knees, and it would be so funny if it weren’t for the awkward situation. Luckily, Todd finally reacts and does what it’s best for his friend: this is, don’t letting him drink more because unhealthy coping mechanisms have already been enough for tonight. He gets up, with a little more grace than Dirk, but he’s not fast enough to catch him before he reaches the almost empty bottle of tequila.

“No, no, you had enough drink, Dirk", Todd approaches the slumping figure and tries to pick the bottle out of his hands before he finds out the coordination to open it.

“No, I didn't??”, he fights back, hugging the bottle.

“Yes, you did. You are enough drunk, you're gonna be sick if you drink more".

“Toooodd, you are so booooriiing”, he cries, and then, _the little shit_ , extends his long arm, leaving the bottle out of Todd reach, “And _so short_.”

 So that's it… He throws himself at Dirk, tackling him against the floor, and the shriek he lets escape sounds like sweet revenge. Now that Todd has toppled him, he tries to take the bottle, but Dirk moves like an eel, his dangling limbs and pointy elbows making difficulting the task. They are about to start rolling over the carpet when the bottle disappears from Dirk’s grip. They both stop moving and look up, watching how Tina opens it and, with one gulp, shallows the tequila remains. She smiles then, a victory smirk.

“Ok, lads, it was fun, so fun. But it's late and I need my beauty sleep so... Have a good night!” she winks, and, like that, she leaves the living room, humming one of the songs Todd _hasn’t_ drunk-sang on top of the table.

“She’s a very... _weird_ person” says Dirk after a while, his now empty hands picking a fluff form the carpet they are sprawled in.

“Look who’s speaking.” Todd replies, fondness in his voice, and as much as he enjoys the feeling of Dirk below him, he sits up, retreating until his back against the couch. He sighs.

 Ten seconds later, Dirk imitates him and crawls back, his moves slow and graceless. They sit side by side on the floor, and it’s quiet and somehow not awkward but… intimate. The alcohol-induced-energy is facing and Todd can feel the sobriety taking him back to the reality, exhaustion settling in everyone of his muscles, so it isn’t strange that he dozes off a little.

 Dirk doesn't speak, so Todd supposes he must have snoozed too, but when he opens one eye and looks at him, he finds the detective very much awake staring sadly at his socks. That weeps the sleep and tiredness out of Todd, and with a new resolve, he turns to face him.

“Ok, Dirk, talk to me” he says, and Dirk flinches, raising his eyes, surprised. He winces then and roll his eyes dramatically (and Todd guess he’s rubbing on him because that’s a very Brotzman thing).

“I… I don’t wanna _talk_ ”, he almost spits the last word, and then he climbs back on the sofa and curls around himself, like a little child. For someone so tall (or at least, taller than Todd, thing that isn't the most difficult on the world, he admits), he resembles a little child too many times, and it'll be endearing if half of those times Dirk wasn’t scared shitless.

 Todd feels his heart drop, but climbs the sofa too and sits by his side, close enough to being able to feel the warm radiating from his body but not too much that he overwhelms him.

“Dirk Gently doesn't want to talk? Who are you and what have you done to my friend?” he tries to joke, but it's fruitless. Words of their previous conversation on the police station flood into his mind, that frightened 'what if who and what I am is going to get you killed?' gripping his heart with cold hands. And, ok, he gets why Dirk feels guilty, and he knows how shitty the feeling is, dammit, he's been living with that feeling so many years, the self deprecation and weight of his own mistakes still lingering on his skin. He knows he’s been a shitty person, an asshole, but he’s trying to change that, and it was Dirk who gave him the nudge he always needed and who made him a better person, someone he can look in the mirror without disgust. When his life had become a swirl of lies and desperation and darkness, the british detective appeared and lighted it. And yes, the progress is slow, and Todd knows better than anyone that he can’t change everything and erase all his wrongs, but _he is trying_. And that’s something that was completely inconceivable two months ago. But, in the end, that is what Dirk do: he turns the ugly, impossible things into great and, ok, sometimes scary and very, very insane, but yet amazing realities.

 And now he’s hurting and haunted by all the traumas he carries, and Todd just want to make it all better, to show him how big is the impact he has on Todd’s life and how much he cares about him and that no monsters, CIA or the fucking universe are going to change the fact that he’s by his side because he chooses to be.

So, maybe, it’s time to force Dirk to see all that.

“Ok, what do you want?”, Todd changes his strategy, his voice firm and determined.

“W-what?”, Dirk rise his gaze, and looks at him with a confused frown.

“You say you don’t wanna talk. So, tell me, what do you want? What would make you feel better? C’mon, let me help you, Dirk.”

 Dirk stares at him with wide, astonished eyes for a moment, and then averts them only to stare back again, more shyly. Todd can almost hear the gears turning in his brain, and he’s 80% sure what’s what Dirk wants.

 What happens between the two of them, that unresolved _something_ , has been the elephant on the room for quite a long time now. Todd knows how Dirk looks at him when he thinks he’s unaware (or even when he’s right in front of him, subtleness isn't one of the detective traits), and how he gravitates closer to him when they are next to each other. He knows about the heart-eyes and the soft smiles, and he’s tired of refusing to admit that there is a reason why all the annoying things that Dirk is had been becoming adorable, and there is also a reason why warmth overflows him and his hearts growns every time he locks his eyes with his. So, yes, Todd is scared shitless, but he’s ready to acknowledge the feeling between each other, if that makes Dirk feel better. He just needs to know if Dirk is ready too.

 The detective doesn’t need cosmical hunches to sense Todd’s new strategy, and he doubts, probably afraid that taking this step complicate things even more. And Todd wants to scream but he just waits with butterflies on his stomach and his heart on the sleeve.

 When Dirk finally speaks, almost a minute later, his voice is tiny and bashful.

“It… it felt nice? ... earlier, when…”, he slides one hand on the sofa, moving it closer to Todd, awkwardly, and a blush spread from his cheeks.

 Todd’s smile is so big he almost fear giving himself a sprain. It is a little gesture, but it means Dirk is willing to open, to trust him and try, and that makes him incredibly happy.

 So he extends his own hand and takes Dirk’s in it, this time letting his fingers slip on the space between Dirk’s ones, their entwined hands resting on the couch. The red that paints Dirk’s face grows darker but his lips also draw a timid curve, and, ok, yeah, maybe Todd is blushing a little too, but who cares.

 And it’s nice, so nice. And from this distance, Todd can see how long Dirk’s eyelashes are and how many freckles splash his skin, and he wants to draw constellations on them with his fingers so he does, lifting his free hand and running the tips of his finger over an especially dense cluster just below his left eye. And now he can’t stop, and he’s stroking his cheek, his nose, his chin and (finally) that little curl on his temple, and then he’s leaning, and he’s kissing him.

 The kiss is soft, like a snowflake touch before it melts, and when Todd withdraws the first things he sees are Dirk’s eyes, because of course the silly kept them open, wonder and even a hint of curiosity behind his irises.

 He’s so _damn_ cute, and Todd kisses him again, longer this time, his hand cupping the nape of the other. Dirk’s lips don’t move yet, and when Todd pulls away again, his face is one of pure awe still.

“You know, you can kiss me back.”

“Oh… _oh, yes_ , of course!, s-sorry, I was… yeah…”

 Todd can’t help but laugh; only Dirk could forget to kiss back because he’s too amazed for being kissed.

 Luckily, when Todd kisses him for the third time, he finally reacts, and it’s, like, a _hundred million of times better_ , his a-bit-trembling lips opening timidly and the fingers of his free hand curling around his shoulder.

 Despite how gently the kisses started, one after the next (and, ok, maybe the tequila still plays its part too), they start to turn deeper, mostly because Dirk gains confidence and becomes his hyper-enthusiastic self. At one point, he leans back against the couch’s arm, pulling Todd on top of him, his long legs circling the waist of the former like an octopus, and, yep, now they are fully making out.

 Things become a little dizzy, probably because they almost forget to breath, but Dirk’s mouth tastes so sweet and Todd can’t get enough, and he swallows every little, shaky ‘ _yes_ ’ and ‘ _ah_ ’ like they were water on the middle of the desert. Dirk wanders his hands everywhere, on his neck, on his back, on his shoulders, on his chest, on his hair, like if he couldn’t decide where to put them because he wanted them to be everywhere simultaneously.

 Todd only breaks the link between their lips in order to establish a new one between his lips and Dirk’s neck. And of course Dirk starts giggling, because he’s a big dork whose neck is ticklish. Although the sound he makes when Todd sucks at the infamous clavicle is far different from a giggle.

 Suddenly, while he’s marking on purple that patch of skin, a thought cross his mind, and he wonders about Dirk’s previous companions. Because it’s quite improbable that this is the first time he… makes this, right? Thinking Todd is his first is a little pretentious. Todd feels something curling at the bottom of his belly, and it surprises him so much the fact that it _isn’t_ jealousy, but a overwhelming wave of overprotection. He really hopes the men (because picturing Dirk with a woman is, somehow, a ridiculous image) who have preceded him had treated him with the respect and kindness he deserves. On his part, he’s going to try his best not to fuck this up.

 That’s why, when Dirk’s fingers reaches for his belt, and despite the loudly protest of his… brain, he stops him.

“What’s the matter?” asks Dirk confused and slurring and with his english accent acentuated ( _holy shit_ ), all his muscles tensing at the resistance.

 Todd resurfaces from his neck, and he almost regrets his decision when he takes notice of Dirk’s rosy cheeks, messy hair and pink, shiny lips. Oook, breath, Brotzman, breath.

“We are going… a little bit quickly, no? I mean… I…” he coughs, diverting his eyes from Dirk’s inquisitive stare. “I don’t… want, you know…I don’t want our first time to be in a shitty couch when we are still drunk”, he takes a deep breath, his face on fire (not literally this time, hey), “I guess what I’m trying to say is that… listen, when you asked me what have I got to do in all this, my answer wasn’t entirely true. I’m in this because of you. _With_ you. Because I like you… a lot. And I care about you so much and… we don’t need to do this now?, not that I _don’t want_ to do it, I mean, it's pretty obvious in more than interested… But… yeah, maybe we should slow down things a little, take our time and…”

“Todd”, Dirk interrupts him and Todd closes his mouth, his eyes everywhere but on the man below him.

“...What?”

“You are rambling”.

 And Todd doesn't need to look to hear the smile on Dirk’s voice, but he does anyway, and he's rewarded with bright, gigant, beaming, beautiful smile. Dirk takes his face between his hands and lowers it, leaving a sweet kiss on his lips.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me”, he mutters, and Todd would be lying if he says his heart doesn't skip a beat or two at the words. “We should sleep now. Would you sleep with me? We’ll have to sleep on the floor because there’s _no way_ we both fit on the sofa. Can I be the little spoon? I know you are the tiniest of us, but I _really love_ being the little spoon.”

 Todd smiles, and somehow, the future doesn’t seem bad anymore.

“Yeah, Dirk, of course”.

***

 The next morning, when Tina walks into the living room, she isn’t surprised at all at the two figures curled in a bunch of blankets on the floor, the only two things at sight being Todd’s arm over Dirk’s middle, in a loving hug, and a pair of feet covered in purple socks.

**Author's Note:**

> ((hope you like it :D Maybe, one day, I'll write a sequel where that first time happen, maaaaybeee... Have a great day!!))


End file.
